


Suffering In Silence.

by Geminisister



Category: Ripper Street
Genre: Abuse, Fighting, M/M, Suggestive, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 11:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13386582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geminisister/pseuds/Geminisister
Summary: Edmond Reid, contemplates his injuries after capturing a criminal.





	Suffering In Silence.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first dabble into the Ripper Street Fandom.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own or claim to have any rites to anything belonging to Ripper Street. I am making no money from this writing. I am writing for my own enjoyment.

Suffering In Silence.

 

Reid wondered why he even bothered to wear his best suit to work. He looked down at his blood smattered clothing and at the ripped cloth of his suit jacket.

He shook his right hand as it began to smart, then flexed his fingers open and then closed into a fist. He winced, as he took in a deep breath. the little shite had managed to belt him in the ribs. He glanced over his shoulder and hid his pain from his men. He did not need them blabbing he had been injured to Jackson. That was the last thing he wanted.

As he headed home, reassured that Flynn was safely banged up in the cells and would not be surprised if his men had laid a few more blows upon him after he left. He would be up in front of the "Beak", first thing and probably heading for the noose in no time. No one likes kiddie fiddlers. 

Later Reid sat in his chair next to a glowing fire. He had not eaten but managed to pour himself a few fingers of whisky. It hit the spot, although he coughed and winced more than he had wished. Bloody ribs.

A knock came to his door. He recognised the rap and sighed with a wince of pain. He opened the door to Jackson who stood nonchalantly in his doorway, fag hanging from his bottom lip and his hat set back on his head. Then the man barged through without a by your leave.

"Off with the shirt." commanded Jackson as he rolled up his sleeves and began to take bottles out of his medicine bag.

Reid sighed, this was the last thing he had wanted. He recalled the last time Jackson's hands were upon him but they both had been ratarsed at the time. He only hoped that Jackson never realised how welcome he had felt as his warm hands had held him after the death of his wife.

He missed his wife, but he missed Jackson's hands more. He swallowed hard and vowed never to reveal his secret.

"Into the breech dear friend," he muttered as he began to remove his shirt.

"What was that?" Jackson asked jerking up his head to look at his patient.

Reid just shook his head. "Nothing."

End.


End file.
